


I'm in a Daze, Adrien

by laurelismay



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Marichat | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelismay/pseuds/laurelismay
Summary: Chat Noir isn’t like you. He’s dark and desperate and when he winces the corner of his mouth forms a deep jag. I’m pretty sure he hates you. Well, ‘hate’ is a strong word. He swung by my window and paused to take in the posters of you on the wall. He rolled his eyes. If you think about it, you’re kind of the reason why this is happening. Why Chat Noir ended up in my room on a rainy Tuesday night.(-just some marichat smut-)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 1
Kudos: 73





	I'm in a Daze, Adrien

Chat Noir isn’t like you. He’s dark and desperate and when he winces the corner of his mouth forms a deep jag. I’m pretty sure he hates you. Well, ‘hate’ is a strong word. He swung by my window and paused to take in the posters of you on the wall. He rolled his eyes. If you think about it, you’re kind of the reason why this is happening. Why Chat Noir ended up in my room on a rainy Tuesday night.

“Are you a fan of Adrien?” he says lightly.

A fan? That descriptor seems lacking. What I feel for you goes so much further than being merely a ‘fan’. I nod anyway.

“I like fashion. He’s a model.” I qualify, smiling.

“Hm. I don’t see the appeal.” Chat Noir chuckles to himself.

He looks oversized, out of place in my room. A hulking predator standing on a pink polkadot rug. It’s strangely endearing.

I flop on the chaise-langue in a pyjama top and a skirt.

“Nice socks.” he remarks. They are. I actually knitted them myself- they’re the same colours as the striped shirt you wear every day.

He comes closer, a clawed hand reaching out.

“May I?”

I acquiesce, extending my legs in his general direction. He pulls off his glove.

Isn’t it strange that a boy exists under the suit? I never considered that there was warm skin beneath the leather. That his voice could turn low and pleading, without a hint of humour.

“Marinette.” he groans. “Did you do that on purpose?”

“Do what on purpose?”

His hot hand slides onto my bare skin and stays there, simmering. No panties.

 _Fuck_.

“It isn’t as if I knew you were coming.” I say, truthfully. Then I prop myself up on my knees and spread my legs.

Sorry, Adrien. You weren’t there.

A moment later I feel the heat of his breath on my pussy. His hands clasp my hips as he licks. It’s no delicate affair; Chat Noir is a slob, attacking with eager abandon.

I pull a scarf down and offer it to him.

“Tie it around my eyes.” I say.

“Are you sure?” he asks, but he’s already grabbing the scarf and winding it around my face.

He de-transforms and divests himself of his civilian clothes immediately. He embraces me from behind, his length teasing between my lips, coating itself in his saliva and my wetness.

“Marinette.” he says in my ear, his voice thick. I mewl in encouragement, gently rocking my hips against him.

“Your pigtails.” he says almost incoherently. His hand tugs at them, first the left then the right. He moves down to grope my breasts, crudely pulling my tank top over them. He pinches one aching nipple as his dick rubs against my pussy, coaxing moans out of me.

_It’s alright. I don’t kiss him._

He licks the nape of my neck, his saliva cooling my skin. He pets me all over, my arms, my belly, my thighs.

“Chat.” I plead. “Chat. Put it in.”

“Say please, Marinette.”

He positions his dick at my entrance, the head just barely popping in.

“Please give me your dick. _Please_ _fuck_ _me_. Oh god.”

“Good girl.” he smiles.

*******

When I see you at school the next day I still feel like Chat Noir’s cum is in my pussy, slowly dripping through my panties (which I am now, in fact, wearing). I cross my ankles tightly, hoping I don’t somehow leave a wet spot, that nobody notices.

A wave of guilt washes over me as your eyes glance warmly in my direction. Normally you just say hi, but today the greeting lingers, you twisted around in your desk with your arm around the back of your seat. You drink me in like an inside joke. It’s confusing but I barely register it, my cheeks warming from your regard and my hot awareness.

Mrs Bustier announces that we should partner up for the next project: Alya immediately claims Nino. Chloe rushes over to your desk. When I look over my shoulder I can’t see Sabrina’s face, but the silhouette of the redhead sitting at the other side of the room melts something in me. I get up.

“-already my partner.”

Your hand is wrapped around my wrist. I look up into your encouraging smile. Chloe lets out a wail and probably says something ridiculous; I don’t hear it.

I make my way over to Nino’s seat, passing between you and the desk as I go. Your hands briefly span my waist. It’s a gentlemanly gesture- a let-me-guide-you-across-so-our-bodies-don’t-press-against-each-other gesture. Just your hands on my hips so we don’t full-length rub up on each other.

Do I have ulterior motives when I get up to use to the bathroom and squeeze past you again? Yes. Gleefully.

The narrow passage between your chair and the wall behind us means you get up from your chair, tucking it beneath the desk. You face me and say “Careful.” Your hands clasped behind your back. I inch my way over, my arms folded. I don’t want to face you, but when I turn around I realise too late that I’m rubbing directly over your jeans. You breathe out, your chest just kissing my back.

“Sorry!” the word falls out of my lips. I don’t move from in front of you.

“Easy.” You say quietly, directly into my ear.


End file.
